Coming Home Early
by TalksToSelf
Summary: John arrives home early to find Sherlock erm... entertaining himself. Not in the way you might think! PWP.


There were certain things about coming home early in the evenings that John Watson was no longer surprised by, it was not unusual for example, to come home early and find body parts prominently on display, it was not unusual to see Sherlock darting around naked, having had an epiphany in the shower and rushed into the living room without bothering with clothes, it was not unusual to discover Sherlock hunched up on the sofa, his hands on his head and his head between his knees, deep in thought.

It was unusual to find a bizarre combination of all three, walking in over an hour earlier than usual John had to blink several times in succession at the sight before him. Sherlock was sat stark naked on their sofa, curled up in a way that could not be comfortable, his knees spread, his hands firmly on the back his head, forcing it down over his crotch. His lips were wrapped around the tip of his erect cock, and John could see his tongue working in his mouth as he pleasured himself.  
"Fucking hell, Sherlock!" John gasped when he found his voice, and Sherlock's head snapped up. He looked like a deer caught in headlights. The fact he'd had his hands clamped over his ears suggested he hadn't heard John's entrance.  
"I wasn't expecting you home until four." He said, in a calm tone that didn't quite fit the compromising situation his flatmate had caught him in.  
"Evidently!" John exclaimed, kicking the door shut behind himself and staring at his eccentric flatmate in shock.

For a long moment there was silence, John trying to process what he'd just seen, and Sherlock trying to gauge John's stunned reaction. He still sat there, hunched up, very naked and very much aroused. John took a deep breath and decided to just go for it.  
"Were you… sucking yourself off?" He asked shakily.  
"Trying to." Sherlock said dismissively, he sat back on the sofa, relaxing a little bit, sitting spread eagled. John was trying and failing miserably not to look. He'd seen Sherlock naked a half a dozen times at least, and had always managed to politely avert his eyes - this time however he could not. Sherlock's raging erection, coupled with what John had just witnessed him doing to it were doing wicked things to John's brain.  
"You…" John cleared his throat awkwardly, in an attempt to compose himself. "You do realise most people don't… can't… do that?"  
"I can see why." He sighed. "It's incredibly frustrating, easy stimulation, pleasurable but ultimately no satisfaction."

John who had not moved from his spot by the doorway, found himself subconsciously licking his lips. Sherlock noticed this, and cocked his head, surveying John, carefully cataloguing every tiny movement. He felt his dick throb in want as he watched the doctor watching him.  
"I didn't even think it was physically possible." John said uncertainly. Sherlock had a slightly puzzled expression on his face, thoughtful, before raising a hand, and curling his index finger slightly, silently beckoning John closer. And John ought to have resisted, told Sherlock to fuck off and put some pants on, yet the sight of Sherlock splayed out in front of him like that was magnetic, and his feet moved of their own accord, toward the excited detective. As soon as John was stood beside Sherlock, the hand that had beckoned him darted forward and grabbed John's wrist. John should have realised what Sherlock was doing, he'd seen him do it before, but he just blinked at the thought that Sherlock was naked - naked and touching him.

"Elevated pulse, dilated pupils, semi-hard." Sherlock mused trailing his fingers over John's wrist, and John felt a blush rise on his cheeks, he hadn't even noticed he was getting a hard-on, though how he could fail to be titillated by this scenario escaped him. "Harsh breathing, and a faint flush to your skin." Sherlock dropped John's wrist. "You're aroused." He concluded. John refused to admit to it, even if Sherlock knew damn well that it was true. "Sit." Sherlock instructed, indicating to the spot on the sofa beside him. John let his knees buckle and he fell into the seat. "Would you like to watch?" Sherlock asked. And John gulped.

If this wasn't the gayest thing he'd ever done, he had no idea what was. He found himself nodding, despite it all. A brief smirk skimmed Sherlock's lips, before he leaned forward as far as he could go, placed both hands in his curly hair and forced himself down further and taking his head between his lips. John watched in fascination, awe and slight discomfort as his friend proceeded to suckle his own weeping tip. Sherlock's eyes were rolled back, staring at John with an intensity John couldn't quite fathom. Occasionally Sherlock would pull back, ever so slightly, and use his tongue, his perfect pink tongue forming a sharp point, lapping at the precum and saliva pooled in the deep red slit. John shifted slightly in his seat, his erection becoming more obvious and more painful with every clever flick of Sherlock's tongue.

The minutes dragged by, John captivated by Sherlock's mouth on his cock, that perfect pink heart bobbing up and down over the first inch or so, unable to get any further down that long thin shaft, entranced by Sherlock's eyes, almost black with desire, that never left John. John could see that Sherlock was turned on, any idiot could, all seven and a half inches of him was stood to full attention, veins bulging against flushed red flesh, but he understood what Sherlock meant by 'pleasurable but no satisfaction', he was unable to get himself off like this. He could tease and torture himself to the point of madness, but he couldn't bring himself to the edge with just his head enveloped by the warmth and wet of his own mouth.  
"If you use your hand as well…" John offered, his voice much lower and huskier than he'd intended. Sherlock pulled off himself with an obscene 'pop' noise, before speaking.  
"My hands are rather busy at the moment." He said, flicking his eyes upwards to indicate the fact his hands were buried in his hair, forcing his head down, and John was unsurprised to hear Sherlock's voice was deeper too… almost a growl. John gulped, and as Sherlock went back to rolling his tongue over his cock almost lazily now, he thought about what Sherlock had just implied. Sherlock's hands were indeed busy… but John's. John stared at his own hands, unsure when he'd placed them on his thighs, they weren't busy - and Sherlock was sat unbelievably close.

Without much thought as to whether this would alter their dynamic forever, John leaned forward and wrapped his left hand around the base of Sherlock's cock, hot to the touch. The detective positively groaned, causing his member to vibrate in John's hand. Anything resembling a coherent thought flew from his head as his hand began to work in tandem with Sherlock's mouth, up when Sherlock lifted his head, down when he lowered it. John had spent far too much of his adult life as a single man, so was more than proficient in wanking, but it felt so different when it was someone elses prick beneath his fingers. The skin moved over the muscle with ease, and if John dared venture higher than the ridge just below the head he was rewarded with the feeling of Sherlock's lips against his knuckles. The breath caught in Sherlock's throat as he approached his orgasm, he instinctively sped up, sucking harder, John's hand quickened too, and in a moment of pure genius his right hand flew to Sherlock's balls, rolling them between his palm.

This did the trick for Sherlock, and no sooner had John rubbed the sensitive skin they began to retract, pulling closer to his body as Sherlock saw white light, his entire body convulsed and his lips became thin white lines as he held on to his violently twitching member, cumming directly upwards into his own mouth. He sat back, and John saw the slightest tantalizing glimpse of white on his tongue, before he threw his head back, chin up, elongating his throat as he made one definitive swallowing motion. John let go of Sherlock, and sat back as well, panting slightly. He had never been so turned on in his life. Sherlock began murmuring incoherent words as he came down from his high with shaky shuddering breaths.  
"Give me a minute." Sherlock mumbled, exhaling heavily. John nodded, he wasn't sure what he was giving Sherlock a minute for, but he'd just helped the man to orgasm, he was pretty sure at that stage he'd have sold his soul for his flat mate.

When Sherlock had suitably recovered, and John was just starting to feel a little awkward, sat with a very noticeable erection, next to his very naked friend, the taller man smirked.  
"Don't worry." He said, in an oddly soothing tone. "I haven't forgotten you." John didn't have time to ask him what he meant by that, before Sherlock was on his knees in front of the doctor, his hands working on his zipper. John blinked in disbelief as Sherlock dragged John's jeans and underpants down in one swift motion, exposing him. Sherlock surveyed him analytically, with those all knowing all seeing eyes for only a moment, before lunging forward and engulfing John's erection with his mouth. Even if John had been able to think of a reason for this to stop he wouldn't have voiced it, merely bucked his hips upwards, overwhelmed by the heat of Sherlock's tongue against the underside of his prick, his head brushing against Sherlock's soft palette. Sherlock pulled back, allowing his tongue to explore every inch of John with teasing little flicks. His next forward movement drew John's foreskin back over his head. John groaned feeling Sherlock's lips ghost over the hard ridge.

He'd thought the sight of Sherlock sucking himself off was the hottest thing he'd ever seen. He was wrong. The vision of his own cock vanishing into Sherlock's eager mouth was far sexier. Sherlock braced his hands against John's hips, to keep him from fucking his mouth as he kept subconsciously trying to do, at first John found this a hindrance, until Sherlock surprised him, by pressing further forward than he thought was humanly possible, his nose buried in John's pubic hair as John's erection found itself pushed roughly down Sherlock's throat. John let out a deep guttural moan that would have been embarrassing had it not been fuel to Sherlock's fire. Sherlock drew his head back, tongue swathing over John's tip before once more forcing his head forward, taking John in his entirety. John panted and couldn't stop his fingers flying into Sherlock's hair. It was hard to tell when his mouth was so full, but John could have sworn he saw Sherlock smirk just slightly - daring him. So John tried, he tugged gently at Sherlock's curls, pulling him back up his length.

He was not forceful, but Sherlock had (for once in his life) for a brief moment relinquished control, allowed John to set the pace by holding his head. John lifted his hips carefully, feeling Sherlock's gag reflex give in as he welcomed John down is throat once again.  
"Oh fuck." John muttered, and Sherlock knew he was close. Without so much as a missed beat he forced John's hips back to the sofa, and took control back, his lips, tongue and throat working in harmony to push John over the edge. John tried to cry out a warning, but all he managed was "Hng!" before he spilled months of abstinence into Sherlock's waiting mouth. The detective gave two hard sucks, wringing a babbling John dry before pulling back. This time he opened his mouth, let John see himself on Sherlock's tongue, before making the same grand gesture of swallowing. As John watched himself disappear down Sherlock's throat in an entirely different way, he gave a small whimper. Had he not been so completely and utterly spent, John thought he would have grown hard again just from that obscene gesture alone - it would certainly be filed away as wanking material for the next however many years.

Sherlock stood up, unabashedly showing off his perfect (and there was no other word for it, Sherlock was perfect, there was not a hair out of place, not a freckle or blemish on him at all) body. It had been a day of surprises most definitely, but Sherlock had one last surprise up his sleeve (had he been wearing sleeves…) he leaned down, fingers in a pencil grip under John's chin, tilting his face up to look him in the eye. Then he kissed him. Sherlock tasted of sex, of an unholy mix of both of their seeds, but his lips were warm and comforting, entirely new yet oddly familiar, and John had no hesitation in returning the kiss, Sherlock's tongue lazily brushing John's bottom lip, begging for access to his mouth, which John (of course) permitted. The kiss continued for several long moments before Sherlock broke it, not for lack of desire, but for need of air. They stayed like that for a minute, John sat still pantsless, Sherlock bent over completely naked, their foreheads against one another, their eyes locked.  
"I think…" Sherlock said eventually. "This calls for celebratory tea."  
"What are we celebrating?" John dared to ask, not letting his gaze fall for even a second, for fear of breaking the fragile moment into a thousand pieces.  
"Us." Sherlock said simply, before letting go of John and flopping back onto the sofa unceremoniously. "Well, what are you waiting for, put the kettle on?" He prompted John who just blinked. All in all it had been a very weird day.

A/n: That was possibly the kinkiest thing I have EVER written. Oh my goodness *fans self*


End file.
